


All For One and One For All

by CinderScoria, Willowcat88



Series: it's just a story [3]
Category: Original Work, Sort of - Fandom, escape the night - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-08-24 04:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16633049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/pseuds/CinderScoria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowcat88/pseuds/Willowcat88
Summary: Ī̵̛̺̯̝̬͉̬̥̭̯̉́̒̃͋͑̔̑̄ͅ ̷̞̰̭͔͇͇̹̭͗w̸̗̹͕͙̝̖̪͓̭͈̺̘͇͍͑o̵̧̤̱̣̐͛̇͂̄̔̐̔̋͆̄̓̅̉͘ǹ̸̡͚͇͖͍͔̩̜̘̻̫͎̘͖̞̾̔̏͗͋̓͗͌̄̽͘̚'̷̢͔͙̲̦͇̭̏̆̐̅̓̋̑̊̍̑̏̋͘͝t̷̡̧̻̥̯̺̟͙̱͕̓̔̐̎̊̀̇̐̂̎̑̈́̓͘͝ ̸̧̧̬͓̼͔͔̳̦̖̊l̸̙̮̝̈́̋̅̈̚͘͝ȅ̷̝̝̖̤̗̻̘͙̙̣̖͉̣͓̜͌̓̐̊́̈́͑̈͝ṭ̶̡̢̢̞͈̖̖̝͙͎̱̦̩͚͑̈́̇ ̷̳̮̺̠̞̼̭̼̈́͂͑̓̓̋̈́̑̋̓͛̌̎̑t̷̢̛͖̤͈̝̉̈́̽̑͌̓̔͜͜͝h̸̛͍̖͈̣̺̘̏̓̍̈̀͂͋̍̈́̀̕͠͝ȩ̴̛͙͔̣͖̺̇̅̅̈́̕ṃ̷̧̡̱͔͍̼͓̜̞̌̾͛̌̀͆̄̐̈́́̈́͛̚ ̷̡̪̘̤̗͖̪̹̮̳̅͆̒̂̍̆̓̽͜͠h̶̛̬̰̹̬̫̼̣̟͔̘̓̈́̋̔͛̃̎̈͗͌̎͜u̷̮̫͔̟̪̞̐̅͛̅̿̽͑̽͘̚͜͝ȑ̵͇̰̥̮́̂̒̒̌̒͊͝͠ț̸̛͚̫̮͙͎͙̖̹̿͐̉͐̆̌̔̔̌̈́̕̕̚ ̴̭̼̠͉̹̼͈̞̊͊̊̏̾͒̄̌̚͜ͅy̸̛͙͔̪͙̺̤̳̑̋̈́̽̈́͂̓̏͆̎̓o̴̡̻̫̝̿̅͆̎̿̏͊̑̔̓̏̕͝u̴͚̪͉̖̗͉̘̬͑̆̐̈́͆͛̃̐͑̚̕̕.̸̨̜͎̈́̊̓̒̃̔͝͠͝





	1. Blessed and Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Voice Documentations of CinderScoria](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16623293) by [CinderScoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinderScoria/pseuds/CinderScoria). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unofficial sequel to 'The Voice Documentations of CinderScoria'

Tegan clicks off the voice recorder, hands shaking with panic. She's  _got_ to go after Jas and preferably Mystic, but she has no idea how to go about that.

_Well, sweetheart, maybe you should let me deal with it~_

**_Shut up! Just, shut up! I nearly hurt Jazzy because of_ you, _and I'm never listening to a word you say_  ever  _again Porcelain._**

_Ara ara! How sweet, you think you can control me?_ the voice in her head giggles.

She ignores it, or at least tries to, and pops her head up from her hiding place just enough to look outside. Looking around, she sees the clowns herding Jasmine away, led by the clown leader.

Tegan ducks down again, breathing deeply in an attempt to steady herself. She thinks about her options; she currently has a jacket full of knives, no backup, and is fighting a losing battle with a demonic entity - who, by the way, is thousands of years old - trying to possess her and then kill all her friends. The clowns have the strength of numbers, the lack of conscience required to actually hurt someone, and they also have Jasmine. 

Tegan knows that Jasmine can hold their own, but if Tegan starts a fight, that puts them in danger.

And she's not doing that again.

_Look, sweetheart. You need my help. Now, I don't particularly care for you, but the clowns are animals. Honestly, they disgust me! They don't seem to realise that killing is an art, ara ara~_

_What I'm_ trying  _to say, little one, is you need to let me help you. If you go about it the right way, you could probably channel my energy without 'losing control', or whatever._

_In short, dear, I hate you, but I hate the clowns more._

**_Ok, fine, whatever, I'll let you help. What.. what should I do?_ **

_You need to pull rank on them. He has a better opinion of me than them. Oh, and if it comes to a fight, you want the big kitchen knife you dropped earlier. Her name is Big Bertha. Respect her, sweetie, and she'll take care of you~_

She goes back to where Jasmine first broke the corruption; where she'd dropped the knife in shock of what she'd nearly done. She picks it up, admiring the quality.

**_You obviously keep her in good condition, Porcelain._ **

_Well, of course~ What use are skills without the right tools, ara ara!_

She shudders, knowing exactly what Porcelain means.

_If it comes to a fight, don't think about what you're doing, and I can guide you through it. Now, go get 'em, sweetheart!_

Tegan grasps her knife, puts on her best 'its just me your friendly neighbourhood murder doll!' face and steps out the door into the night.


	2. fortune favors the brave

Jasmine was fine until they’re separated from Mystic.

Immediately they start to thrash as the clowns take their friend before they could say any words of encouragement to them, herd her to God knows where while they themselves are taken to the Big Tent.

They recognize this tent, which isn’t all that hard considering how many times they’d watched the third season. They’d been a fan of the show long before season three had dropped, but then the cast had included their favorite Youtuber, MatPat, and it  _ very effectively  _ sucked them in.

They’re starting to wonder if they regret ever getting involved with this fandom as the murderous clowns tie them to the support beam in the middle of the tent. But then they grin, feeling the double square knot between their wrists.  _ Amateurs. _

“Funny that you’re smiling considering your position.”

Their head jerks up to see what their ears already confirmed: a clown about their height, fair skinned, with curly blonde hair, a round face, a red clown nose, white clown gloves, and a very laid back grin on his face. Their heart sinks as it finally clicks.

It’s JC. They’re not sure how that’s possible, because they  _ know _ he’s safe back home, making videos with his roommate and best friend Kian Lawley—it’s all their friend Kait ever talks about these days. Admittedly they didn’t pay attention to JC, and only really learned to love him through their friend’s endless commentary on how cute he is. They agree, he’s pretty cute. Not their type, though. Not that anybody is.

JC steps closer to them, eyeing them up and down. “You’re fighting it pretty hard, aren’t ya,” he comments, idle and unconcerned. “You have to know that you’re gonna lose.”

Their fingers flex behind them. Even though their heart is pounding loud enough to echo in their ears, they lean forward and snarl, “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“You don’t need to fight the corruption, you know,” he points out. “Let it take over. You don’t have to worry or hurt anymore.”

An arched eyebrow disappears into their dark curly bangs. “Forgive me if I have my doubts on that one.”

He smiles, real slow. His canines are pointier than they remember. “You’re brave.”

“I’m a Gryffindor.”

“But you’re still scared.”

They shrug. “I’m a Gryffindor.”

“Well, you’re here now,” he muses. “I suppose we can just let you rot here, until the Cursed God collects you, or until you succumb to the corruption you’re trying so hard to fight.”

Jas swallows hard as his smile widens and his fellow clowns start to laugh. “But where’s the fun in that?”

 


	3. Alright, Let's D̷͖̜̳̥̩̰̘̯͍̺͖̜̗̭͗̒̋̃̿͐͌̕̚͝a̷͔̻̺͗͗̿̎̋͆͐͐͛͆̇͝͠ņ̴͇̱̑̌̾̔͋̑͝͠c̵̫̹̻̪̻͈̀̽ȩ̴̱̹̪͐́́͌͊̐̆͂͂

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tegan/Porcelain finally gets around to rescuing Jas. Not that Jas needed rescuing in the first place, they were perfectly fine on their own.

She strides down the street, chin held high. She's intent on revenge, especially with Porcelain egging her on, but she's keeping a level head.

 _Find Jas and free them first,_ she tells herself,  _and then, if it doesn't endanger anyone, you can have revenge. But do it nicely. With as little murder as possible._

She slows down as she aproaches the Big Top, crouching down and peering through the tent. She sees Jasmine, tied to a pole, defiantly talking to the lead clown. It's at that moment she realises that the lead clown is in fact  _Jc Caylen._ She motions to Jasmine, catching their eye. They look relieved to see her, but don't give anything away in their expression.

She mouths the words 'I'm going to distract him' and then goes to tap the side of her nose in a 'shh' gesture, forgetting about the knife in her hand.

Thank  _God_ that Porcelain manifesting has toughened her skin so she  _doesn't_ cut her nose off. 

Jasmine has to repress a laugh as Tegan sneaks away awkwardly.

She understands that she needs to make a commotion to get Jc outside. She decides the best course of action is  _obviously_ to scream really loudly, at the highest pitch she can manage.

So she does. 

Almost immediately, as she stops, gasping for breath, she hears a loud "What was  _that?"_ from inside. Quietly, she darts away, ducking behind a stack of crates as she spots Jc wander out of the tent, heading over to where she was standing.

Realising that he'll go back inside soon enough, she sneaks over, grabbing a deckchair from the piles of rubbish stacked around, and swings it at the back of his head. Luckily, he crumples to the floor, knocked out.

She winces, muttering a quiet apology.

Hurriedly, crouch-runs back over to the entrance of the tent, hoping against hope she doesn't get seen.

She steps delicately into the Big Top, putting on her best persuasive, silk smooth voice.

"Boss says the prisoner is in _my_ custody, sweethearts. He said that I could have some fun with them, as a reward for doing so well tonight~" She toys with her knife as she speaks, trying to appear casual.

"Aww, Porce! I thought tonight was gonna be finders keepers." High Tower whines.

"Yeah! And we found 'em, we  _keep_ 'em!" Sally Slaughter adds, clearly pissed.

"Actually,  _sweetie,_ you'll find that I found them first," Slightly-More-Porcelain-than-Tegan-right-now hisses, drawing her knife as she prepares to fight.

It's quite scary. Tegan's never been in a  _physical_ fight before, let alone with murderous clowns. Porcelain has, however, but Tegan's still to afraid of herself to let her takeover fully.

"This'll only end badly for you, sweetheart. You know that, right? So hand them over before you piss me off any more, okay?" she warns.

A clown steps up to 'Porcelain', easily identifiable as the lead clown from the show. She's drawn one of her knives.

"Ara ara~ What happened to you? Lost your crown to an outsider, and nobody knows _your_ name, but so many know  _his_ _!_ You must feel so pathetic, don't you, sweetheart?" The words fall from Tegan's mouth, but she didn't will them into existence.  _That was entirely Porcelain._

She can feel herself slipping, and she struggles, until a voice in her head speaks to her, voice soothing.

_It's okay, love. Just let go. If you let go, I'll keep you safe. I'll handle the fighting, and then I'll give you the reigns back, at least a little bit. Let go._

And she does.

It's a strange feeling, not being in control of one's self. It's like she's watching from behind Porcelain's eyes. It sends shivers down her spine - at least, it would if she was in  _control_ of her spine.

"You sure you wanna say that, Porce?" the former leader growls, taking up a fighting stance. "I wouldn't want to chip that pretty face of yours unless I had too."

Tegan feels Porcelain roll their shoulders and adjusting the grip on Bertha.

"Alright, let's dance~" she says, calmly, and then time seems to blur as the two killers fight.

Porcelain moves first, attempting to slash across the leader's chest, but they jump back. It becomes apparent very quickly that Porcelain needs to move  _fast_ to avoid being hit by one of the clown's throwing knives.

She's dashing in whenever she has the oppurtunity, weaving in out to confuse her opponent, and just constantly moving. The leader is almost as fast though, armed with many well-aimed throwing knives and, when Porcelain gets close enough, attempting to stab her in the gut.

Suddenly, a clown steps close to Jasmine, pointing a knife at their throat. "Leave the old boss alone, or your precious  _plaything_ loses their head!" they growl. At this, Jas's face morphs quickly, into (for just a second, if that) an expression of panic, to one of rage and disgust.

Tegan, who's been doing so well at not intefering with Porcelain's control, rips the metaphorical reigns out the demon's hand out of concern for their friend's safety.

Because of this, Porcelain can no longer safely control their body, and all the precarious dodging and ducking comes to a grinding halt as she turns to look at Jasmine, guard slipping for just a second.

Her opponent takes that as the perfect oppurtunity, throwing a knife that hits its target - sinking hilt-deep into Tegan's left shoulder.

She screams, dropping the knife in a moment of blind panic and agony.

In that same moment, Jasmine finally gets free of their bindings, kicking their guard in the knee. They rush over to Tegan, face full of concern for their friend and anger at the clown leader, and scoop her up bridal-style, along with Porcelain's knife, and dash for the exits.

They set her down, just outside, spinning around to face the shocked clowns, and snarl "Adi-fuckin-os, bitches!" before slashing the ropes holding up the entrance of the tent so that the clowns can't get to them anymore.

Then they scoop a whimpering Tegan back up, and run back towards the safety of the lounge.


	4. Just Keep Breathin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jas brushes off some rusty life skills, emphasis on "life"

Jas has a sister about Tegan’s age they carry around like a baby all the time, so cradling their friend bridal style isn’t new or difficult as they take off at a blind, dead sprint for the Lounge. The collapsed entrance of the tent won’t stall those clowns for long, and they know for a fact JC wasn’t in it when it went down, so he could be anywhere. Then there’s Mystic, and wherever they’d taken her when the two of them were captured, and Birdy, and all of their other friends scattered throughout the town, possibly being brainwashed, maybe _dying_ for all they know—

Oh and Tegan has her face buried into their shoulder, left arm tucked between their chests, right fist twisting knots into Jas’s jacket, and if Jas stills long enough they can feel her entire body trembling in their grasp.

They don’t, though. Instead they shift their grip and shush their friend the best they can while hurrying towards the arcade, slipping into petnames usually only reserved for their siblings, voice hoarse and desperate and _scared_ because this is a lot of blood, it’s a lot of blood for a wound they know won’t kill her but _happened_ to her anyway and— _fuck—_

“Jas,” Tegan gasps, muffled from where she’s pushing her face into Jas’s shoulder like they can take the pain from her, “Jas, _Jas—”_

“I know, babe, I know, I’m sorry,” is all they can think to say, muttered into her ear, and “shhh, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna take care of you but I need you to be quiet for me, honey—”

“I’m _sorry—”_

“None of that, now,” they say sternly, and she flinches against them. Jas wants to apologize immediately, heal her with words, undo all of this so they can go _home_ and forget about this nightmare.

But they can’t, and this is happening, so instead they pull her up closer as they fly through the doors of the arcade, make a beeline for the fridge, and pass into the Lounge. It’s empty, and their heart sinks, because the authors should know this is a safe place. Are they really the only ones safe in this hellhole?

 _Not safe yet,_ they acknowledge as they try to get Tegan to let go of them so they can set her on the couch. “Baby girl, I need you to let go so I can look at you.”

“I can’t,” she says through sobs, “I’m sorry, I’m trying, I’m sorry—”

“You’re okay, sweet pea.” Jas runs a hand through their friend’s hair, ignoring the thick, metallic scent of blood in the air. “You’re okay, you’re gonna be fine.”

It takes another minute, but Tegan finally lets go long enough for Jas to shake off their bloody jacket—dropping a few shards of something curious onto the floor in the process, though they can’t afford to pay attention to it right now. Instead they continue to murmur assurances as Tegan cries, and maybe to anyone else it’d be weird, but Jas can only see their little sister bleeding on the couch and it’s flipped every protective instinct in their body. They move through the motions of their first aid training (three years ago, required to become a swimming teacher for kids), humming a panicky lullaby they learned in choir (eight years ago, in Afrikaans, the words are lost and they’d probably butcher them anyway, but the melody is still ever-present in their memory) and letting one hand soothe as best they can, swiping away tears with a thumb, brushing fingers through her hair, and being the best big sister they know how.

But all of that stutters to a stop as they pull the sleeve up Tegan’s arm to get a better look at the knife in her shoulder and realize, with staccato horror, that her skin is cracked, split fissures like her body is made of…

“Porcelain,” they breathe, not comprehending even as they do. Tegan’s skin is hard and smooth and cracked, right there, like seashells, and her blood is _hot_ and still spilling out from around the small throwing knife still in her shoulder but her _skin—_

And they can’t hide their abject shock at this discovery, so when Tegan sees it in their face she reaches with her right hand to feel where her skin has chipped like a worn, misused teacup and promptly freaks the fuck out.

“Why is—why can’t I feel my—”

Her breaths come faster, voice rocketing up in pitch, English accent disappearing as panic takes over, and Jas recognizes all the telltale signs of an impending panic attack, but they’ve never witnessed someone _else_ having one.

Their instinct is to grab her again, hold her near them and keep her from everything that would ever want to hurt her, but that’s irrational. The thing hurting her is buried hilt-deep into her shoulder and Jas needs to take it out, needs to bandage it, stem the bleeding, wrap her in blankets to keep shock from grasping her, they need to get her fluids and let her rest, but before all of that—

Tegan’s stammering apologies and curling up as best she can on the couch, fists clenching and unclenching like she’s reaching for something to hold. Jas thinks _oh, fuck it,_ and gives her their hand, and Tegan wrings it in a grip wicked strong for someone her age, breaths coming in short pants, her eyes alternating between squeezed shut and wide open, searching for them to make sure they’re still there.

“Why can’t I feel my skin?” she asks, like Jas has all the answers, and Jas hates, all of a sudden, being the adult.

They shake their head, and Tegan begins to wheeze, so Jas says, “Can I touch?” And when she gives a jerky nod, they place their other hand on the side of Tegan’s neck, thumbing her cheek, and press their forehead to hers.

“Slow down,” they implore, just over a breath.

“I’m _trying.”_

“And you’re doing so good,” they tell her. “You’re doing so good. But you gotta breathe with me or you’re gonna pass out, okay?”

Tears leak from her eyes, but she nods again, and Jas breathes, because they need it too. The two of them breathe, Tegan struggling to get her panic under control, clutching Jas’s hand with her good one, and if it hurts Jas doesn’t feel it. They’re solely focused on what they’d want done for them if they’d been panicking, and doing their best to give it to their younger friend.

God, she’s so small, and Jas can’t not see Natalia, and it’s making their knees weak.

Eventually, Tegan murmurs, “I’m okay,” and Jas snorts because that’s a lie, none of them are okay, _least_ of all Tegan, who is cracking into literal pieces and bleeding to boot, and speaking of—

The younger author is reluctant to let go, but Jas manages to free themselves from her grip long enough to retrieve the first aid kit from one of the shelves (wondering who had brought this out, because they don’t remember it in the show at all, and if someone had put it here then maybe there’s hope for the other authors yet). They don’t know what to do about the shards of porcelain that drop to the couch, and then the floor, as they begin to gently brush them away from the wound, but the rest of this is practiced movements. It’s been three years but they remember everything they’ve ever been taught in this one moment, keeping up a litany of comfort as Tegan struggles to focus on breathing.

“Okay,” they murmur after they’re sure everything is set. “Tegan, babe, I’m not going to sugarcoat this—”

“It’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?” she guesses, managing to sound dry around the tears in her voice.

Jas huffs a laugh entirely inappropriate for the occasion, but nods. “The knife is small, but it’s deep, and I can’t do sutures so we’re going to do our best to stop the bleeding and try to go from there, okay?”

Tegan’s free fingers curl again into a fist. “Can’t be worse than it has been.”

And, well, Jas doesn’t want to say that they highly doubt that, so instead they squeeze Tegan’s hand as hard as they possibly can and then, when she yelps at the pressure, yank the knife from her shoulder in one fast, fluid movement.

Tegan screams.

Her entire body seizes for a split second before she immediately curls, turning away from Jasmine as best she can. Blood spills faster from the open wound, and Jas shoves their jacket to her shoulder, making Tegan’s breath catch again before she goes back to screaming.

Jas is screaming too, trying to reassure her over her cries, splitting their attention between trying to stop the flow of blood and comfort her at the same time. But Tegan is inconsolable, bucking against them, ragged breaths getting shorter and shorter as she flies into another panic attack, and Jas can’t calm her this time, not if they’re going to keep her from hurting herself anymore than she already is.

And they get… an awful idea, an idea that has like an eighty percent chance of backfiring on the both of them, but—if they’d read her right, and they put a lot of stock in their ability to read people—

Jas holds their right hand on the jacket still bunched up, pressed to Tegan’s shoulder, and uses their left to squeeze their friend at the base of her shoulder. And they speak, not to Tegan, but to her demon. “Porcelain,” they say, in the most commanding voice their can muster, “I need you to—”

_“You need me, ara ara~?”_

To their blank shock, Tegan’s mouth opens and black smoke flies from it, manifesting above their heads a—girl, Tegan but not, skin impossibly shiny considering she’s made of smoke, clothed in a short black dress that falls to her knees. Her limbs are stiff and jerky, giving her a terrifying image of a marionette, complete with lines drawn from the corners of her mouth down to her chin not unlike a puppet’s.

She leans over Tegan, giving Jas a cutting glare with gray eyes flat as charcoal. “This is _your_ fault,” she hisses.

“I’m aware of that,” Jas shoots back, unwilling to give into the fear pumping through their veins. “I need you to keep her calm so I can fix this.”

 _“Fix_ this? You’ve broken my host, she’s in pieces on the floor!”

“She wouldn’t be if you hadn’t possessed her in the first place,” Jas snaps.

The demon’s eyes flash like lightning in a storm cloud, but Jas cuts her off before she can spill any more threats, gambling on their gut feeling. “I saw you fight, I saw T let you in, I _know_ you’re not the evil, careless bitch you portray yourself as. She needs you, Porcelain.” They grind their teeth. _“Please.”_

Porcelain scowls, before rolling her eyes. “This is for my host, _not_ for you. Humans, _ara ara,_ you’re so fragile. _”_

“Thank you,” Jas responds, letting a little of their overwhelming relief at having help leak into their voice.

And Porcelain hums, noncommittal and also unimpressed, but she curls herself around Tegan’s crumpled form, smoke and all, like a large, snuggly cat. Jas watches her for a moment, trying to see any sort of malice in her gaze, but Porcelain is gentle and careful as she strokes one hand through Tegan’s hair and Tegan, impossibly, unconsciously, begins to relax.

“Okay,” they whisper to themselves, maintaining the pressure as they release the hand on Tegan’s neck and reach for the bandage roll in the first aid kit. They work quickly, wanting this over as soon as possible. The wound is deep, but small in terms of width, and they’re no surgeon but they’re pretty sure it didn’t hit anything vital. Again, this wound won’t kill Tegan, but the fact that it happened at all is enough to make Jas sick to their stomach. Or maybe that’s the blood coating their shaky palms. At least their friend is calmer, breathing deeper, even if her shoulders still wrack with hiccups every once in awhile in the wake of her second attack.

They’re taping down the bandages when the fridge opens, and both Jas and Porcelain react defensively—Jas pivoting to place themselves between the new threat and their friend, and Porcelain actually reaching for the knife Jas had pulled from Tegan, only to remember that she’s an incorporeal form at the moment.

Neither of them expect Manny Gutierrez, better known as MannyMUA, to cram his large body through the tiny doorway, clad in his green jumpsuit and sporting a flawless full face of makeup that lights up when he spots Jas and Tegan huddled on the couch across from him.

“Oh, good!” he exclaims. “Two for one! That’s perfect!”

“Manny, what the fuck?” Jas blurts, because this definitely _sounds_ like Manny, but they’d also just ran into JC and JC had been—well, evil. Definitely evil.

The beauty guru deepens his voice. “Come with me if you want to live,” he says, butchering the accent, and it’s so startling Jas just stares for a hot second.

It’s a second too long, as Manny spots Porcelain, and his expression darkens. “Cinder—that demon—”

“She’s okay,” they interrupt, and miss the suspicious, startled glance Porcelain throws their way. “How do you know my name?”

“Long story,” he explains, frowning. “Come on, we need to get you and Tegan to the sanctuary. We’ll purge the demon there.”

Jas stands. “How do I know you’re not—brainwashed, like the others?”

“Others?”

“I saw JC,” they say flatly. “He more or less threatened to torture me until the Cursed God decides what he wants to do with me.”

“Oh that’s—” He frowns, thinking about it. “Also a long story. Don’t worry, we’ll explain everything. Do you want me to carry her?”

 _Well, you are the Strong Man,_ is what they think, but they don’t voice the thought, still wholly unsure if this is a trap or not.

Porcelain is the one who comes to their rescue. “He’s telling the truth, _ara ara~”_ she informs them, sounding disdainful. “It isn’t safe for any of us here, and he isn’t one of the Cursed God’s lieutenants. Believe me, I would know.”

Manny scowls at her, and Jas pulls themselves to their full height—still a solid half a foot shorter than him, but every bit as formidable. They have blood on their hands, after all, and they’re stressed, pissed, and feeling a bit protective at the moment.

“Okay,” they say, finally. “But I want answers the second we get there.”

“You got it, babe,” he says, and Porcelain—though obviously reluctant to give up her position comforting Tegan, who’s fallen into an exhausted sleep—gets up, allowing the beauty guru to scoop Tegan into his arms like she weighs nothing.

He clicks his tongue in sympathy, softening as he turns to Jas. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he says. “You guys were difficult to track down.”

Jas swallows hard, trying to bury the urge to let their knees buckle now that someone older, someone who knows what they’re doing, has taken over. They still have to be strong, at least a little while longer. At least until they finally get the answers to their questions.

Manny leads the way out. Jas turns to thank Porcelain—because she’s a demon, but obviously not as bad as she wants them to believe—only to discover she’s disappeared, dissipated like smoke, as if she was never there.

They shake their head and whisper, “Thank you,” to the empty room before following Manny out of the Lounge.


End file.
